


Family Home.

by impracticallyperfect (whynotfour)



Series: Tom Holland and His Girl [13]
Category: British Actor RPF, tom holland - Fandom
Genre: F/M, SO FLUFFY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-15
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-30 05:50:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12102135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whynotfour/pseuds/impracticallyperfect
Summary: Tom takes his girl to his grandparents home for the weekend.





	Family Home.

**Author's Note:**

> Something soft and sweet to keep you warm.

The roads weave through the countryside like the music pouring through the radio to intersperse with Tom’s heavy breathing, sunset low on the horizon while autumnal showers alternate with falling leaves. Denim jacket draped over his shoulders like a blanket and Henley tight on his chest it’s easy to conjure up images of the family home and the freshly stoked fire. He thinks back to childhoods with his brothers playing games by the chimney breast until his father chased them to sleep and his mother’s touch on his scalp as she tucked him in at night. Red and gold dance out of the corner of his eye until Tom is on the verge of sleep, thinking of the memories he gets to cherish.

She knows his grandparents village like she’s been there beside him for every stay, remembers the leg that crashed through the ice when Tom’s grandfather took him fishing in February when he was six and the shop where he smashed an ancient artefact that his grandmother had to pay for, because he has spoken of it so often. The family traditions feel as much a part of her life as the one’s her own parents nurtured and the token gift of wine unnecessary when they pass the tavern that commemorates the community’s founding. Tom stirs still half asleep when he mumbles her name lowly to point out the old sweetshop that they pass by, the place his grandparents had met always larger in memory. 

It feels like returning home when she drives them through the tight lanes that lead to the cottage and she can almost hear the kettle boiling on the range over the stereo. The yawns beside her make her eyes water and Tom is apologetic when his hand finds her knee comfortably beneath the wheel.

“Thank you for this, love.”

“You know I’d do anything for your family,” she doesn’t know the weight of her words or the fact that she’s the first to be brought back here, Tom doesn’t tell her that his grandmother has been rehearsing recipes since he said she would come or that his mother has already found the home videos he has begged her to destroy.

He is too far gone to care about scaring her away, knows that the Holland clan have met her at enough family events for the weekend away not to prove too much. He has warned his brothers off of tormenting the way they steal kisses when nobody is looking and has had his father’s jokes vetted in advance to stop embarrassment. Tom’s heart is heavy because the proposal is on his mind and he knows that his grandmother’s engagement ring will be sitting on her finger by the time they drive here for Christmas. His imagination is carried away by the children playing in the park where he used to be, the tiny hats and gloves a reminder of the future he hopes they’ll share when a mother pushes her child on a swing. It’s easy to be Tom here, pure and simple, just the way she likes him.

“I can’t wait for us to have that,” she says softly like the words are a melody she is trying to capture. “Our own little family to make snow angles in mounds of leaves.” 

“When we do we have to take them pumpkin picking,” Tom speaks just as gentle as his grip tightens gently. “Make them wear awful matching outfits like me and the twins had to.”

“Paddy escaped?”

“Joys of being the youngest child, he only had to suffer the hand me downs.”

“Poor boys,” she laughs as freely as Tom finds himself doing, the indicator slipping between her fingers as she stops opposite the old family house to turn into the driveway. “Is it wrong to say I hope your mum has pictures though?”

“Only if it’s wrong of me to say that I hope your parents have as much dirt on you back home.”

“We are going to be terrible parents you know,” he chuckles as the car finally slides into park and he get to lean over the centre console to kiss away the words from her lips.

“I know but that’s what I’m counting on.”

The house radiates light and paints the cobbles gold as they abandon their bags on the door step in exchange for warm cider and blankets, exchanging laughter as they are rushed in front of the fire by his grandmother like they have travelled from London by foot in the middle of winter. A soundtrack of happiness is easy to accommodate as it spills from the den and the influx of kisses that smother their faces when she calls for the others to come and greet them fails to make Tom cringe in comparison to the photograph that she has had framed on the mantle of his first day at senior school. His mother’s cheeks glow from happiness, and maybe a little bit from the mulled wine she has drunk, when she pulls him into her arms and his brothers’ joke about how they didn’t get the same treatment when they arrived earlier. They argue over Nikki’s affection like it’s a competition and shoot jokes at Tom’s expense until his girlfriend is joining in with the ridicule like second nature and he’s left reminding her of whose side she should be on.

“Already one of us,” Dom cheers as the boys agree and Sam drapes an arm over her shoulders playfully in support of the accusation. “And that’s before she has even seen the pictures of him in that leotard-”

“I think we should break up,” Tom interjects as everyone laughs over him, knowing that she’d love him regardless of whatever they could throw at her.

“No chance. You’re stuck with me, Holland. Get used to it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed please comment or like it takes seconds and makes my day.


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